People Like Us
by I Am Paradoxia
Summary: Tommy Vercetti is the big man in Vice City. He's the mind behing Vice City's drug smuggling. He has alot of money, and he owns one of the most popular clubs. But he falls for an innocent girl, someone who's never experienced the rough life. ON HIATUS
1. The lonely life of Tommy Vercetti

People Like Us – by **Maatlockk**

This is my first attempt at writing a fan fiction, so please be nice. :D

This story is about Tommy Vercetti, the drug lord of Vice City. The year is around 2003 (I suppose… I don't know enough of the 80's to write a fic with that timeline) and times have changed. The Vercetti gang still reigns supreme, and his empire has grown stronger than ever. Will Tommy find love in this crime filled wasteland?

(DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. And pardon me if everything sounds wrong. I don't really tolerate flame, but I do appreciate constructive criticism. Thanks for even opening my fic! Please comment.)

I don't mean to make this fic look smutty, but I think that a slightly sexual scene would really get people's attention. :D

I have never been to clubs or bars, I have never done drugs so my description of what happens in this fic is purely second hand material. But that doesn't mean I'm not trying to write a good fic!

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Waking up in his big and empty bed, he struggled to open his eyes. The harsh sunlight behind the thick curtains seemed all too bright for him; his eyes stung and watered as he tried so hard to get up. He looked at the clock on the wall; the time was now 3 pm sharp.

"Dammit, what the hell was I doing last night?" he thought. He got up, looked in the mirror and then remembered the events which took place last night.

_FLASHBACK_

The walls of Club Malibu reverberated from within as the loud music blared inside, the atmosphere thick with smoke, the smell of sweat, sex and alcohol; the overhead lights flashing entrancing dancers to a state of high, if not already under the influence of drugs. The club now has live gigs with a live band, and the décor has been updated from the drab 80's disco look to the now modern party club. If you ask the bartender for a Blue Poison with a twist, she'll give you some cocaine hidden under a shot of vodka dyed blue.

Tommy Vercetti sat on the private verandah up above the party, soused from too much alcohol, a whore on either side, both of them high. Ken Rosenberg was there as well, sniffing some more 'idiot fuel' as Tommy would say. His white shirt disheveled and stained with coffee stains, his black trousers with streaks of white powder. Tommy's dark jeans and black shirt however, were clean but ruffled. One of the girls started groping Tommy down there, and the other one was nibbling at his ear, and soon the girls were all over him. Tommy just sat back; the blood from his head had been redirected to another region which was now throbbing and sore, in need of attention.

By the time his zipper was pulled down, Ken had already gone down to the private restroom. Despite the loud music from downstairs, he heard faint laughter and giggles, moaning and Tommy saying something to the girls. He didn't care for sex, he had already gotten some action earlier. A while later as he got out, he saw that Tommy was alone.

"Hey, where did those girls go? Did you get some action, huh, Tommy?" said Ken. He felt like the gravity had no effect on him as he dropped down onto his chair.

"Shut up, Ken. Oh man, am I gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow…" Tommy laid his head back, tired. Exhausted was more the word.

This would be Tommy's regular night out at his club. Drink and dance, pick up some girls and then fuck them, drink some more, in no particular order. Sometimes he could not remember the faces of the girls he had fucked, often because of the alcohol.

"Hey, Tommy, what time is it?" asked Ken.

"I don't know, what am I, a fucking grandfather clock or something? Oh no, wait. It's ten past two. Why'd you ask? Got some crazy Thai chick waiting for you?" Tommy laughed, his eyes closed.

"I have a case tomorrow. Some chick filed a sexual harassment suit against her boss, said something about him eyeing her up and undressing her with her eyes, and a bunch of other crap that doesn't make any sense. Either I take the case or I can sell my practice. Not that anyone's interested n buying, buy hey. A guy's gotta make a living, right?"

"Ken, do I look like I care about your stupid case?" Tommy snapped. Sometimes Ken can babble on and on, regardless of whether if anyone cares or not.

"Yeah, well I have to go get some shut eye. I'll see ya tomorrow?" Ken got up, grabbing his jacket, his eyes bloodshot.

"Jesus, Ken. You look like shit. If you still look like shit tomorrow just bail and say you've got food poisoning or something."

"Alright, Tommy. See ya." Ken left, walking slowly down the stairs, like he was in slow motion.

Tommy felt like he needed to do something, so he dug around the place for some cocaine, did a hit, and then went downstairs to maybe go party like crazy 'till he can't move. He just HAD to do something. It was midnight, and the party was wilder than ever. Everyone was in a trance-like state, as the music played, the lights flashed, and the alcohol seeped in; the feeling was all to familiar to Tommy. He occasionally went to the bar to get a drink, then a visit to the toilet and then back to the dance floor, often picking up a few more girls, getting a blow job in a dark corner, and more partying. And drinking, and cocaine. And sex, that was a common thing at the Club Malibu.

END OF FLASHBACK

Tommy could hardly remember how he got home. Maybe he took a cab, or drove home. If he did, he must have been one hell of a drunk driver. His head was pounding, and his shirt was buttoned wrongly. And there were hickeys on his neck and chest.

"What the fuck?" he said aloud as he looked at the red marks in the mirror. It must have been some drunken chick, too horny for her own good. At least he hoped that it was a chick…. He took his clothes off and went into the bathroom to take a shower. As he washed himself clean of the smell and residue of last night, he felt the scar on his stomach where Catalina had shot him in Liberty City.

"That whore… at least I got to kill her," he thought bitterly. He missed being with a woman. Not just fucking her senseless, but really being with a woman, to actually hold her and give himself to her, heart and soul. He washed himself good, and stepped out of the shower, got dressed and went looking for food, trying to ignore the pain he feels inside.

END Chapter 1

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Author's note: I hoped that didn't suck too much. I know my writing style sounds rather formal but that's what happens when you've written one too many academic essays about some fake skeleton in England… (Ever heard of the Piltdown man? Nyahahahahahahahahahaha…..)

I like looking at my fic on Microsoft word and not seeing one red or green squiggly line. :D

Please comment and let me know if there's anything that I should improve with my writing.

Also, there's gonna be an _other character_ (OC). A lady friend. Haha… anyone got any names? I haven't decided what name to use. I'm very peculiar about names, you know…

Thanks again! Email me ok?!


	2. Run in at the movies

People Like Us – by **Maatlockk**

Chapter 2

I hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter.

Since Tommy took over Diaz's house, I'll have to assume that he actually lives there. Any objections? Comment or email me please.

To **MorbidXAngel**, sorry I didn't reply your message sooner. I used one of the names you suggested, so in a way, you helped me write this fic. :D This chapter is dedicated to you!

- - -

The time was now 3.30pm, and Tommy was hungry. He went down to the kitchen to look for something to eat only to find that there are a bunch of rotten food stuffs, a pile of empty pizza boxes and empty beer cans and bottles.

Most of the time, he sleeps when the sun rises and wakes up when the sun sets; partying late, late meetings with those who sell drugs for him for a small slice of the profit, and late night errands which require him to be fully awake at ungodly hours. Sometimes some of the Haitians would cause trouble, like trying to steal his cocaine, or try and destroy his fastest boats, or beat up some kid working for him selling drugs and shit alike. This means that he has to chase them down with some of his men, shooting them down, and if necessary, extract any information which could be of value to them; a long and excruciating process because some of them refuse to talk even after their hands have been smashed with a hammer. Sometimes they even had to slowly burn their skin with a blow torch, but most of them would start talking by the time all the bones in their hands are crushed.

His usual work for a day would be to check with his men, to make sure that the business is doing well. Tommy had proven over and over again that he was the only one fit to rule the city. More than once, they had avoided being exposed by under cover law officers who were on a sting operation. Often they would end up on the ocean floor with new cement shoes, or encased in cement – Avery Carrington was generous enough to Tommy to allow him to 'hide' the bodies in the cement foundation of his construction site – after all, they had a business relationship.

After looking around the kitchen and finding nothing but trash, he cursed and told one of the guys to clean it or he'll 'make them eat trash'. He decided to have lunch at the restaurant in Ocean View hotel. It was the first restaurant he had dined at in Vice City; the food was to his liking. Not to fancy, but still elegant, delicious and fulfilling. He drove his black Comet around town, hoping to make time pass by fast. He went to the Pole Position and visited with the girls, just to see how they were doing; making sure that there weren't any stalkers or perverts messing with them. Tommy Vercetti takes care of his girls. It's this kind of treatment which keeps them loyal to his service.

He had spent quite a long time at the strip club, because when he had gotten out, the sky was already dark. Those girls can surely make you lose track of time…

He felt like all he had in life was his business – crime, drugs, sex, and violence. Killing people like cutting down grass – it felt so easy. He'd have no problem sleeping even after coming home to his big and empty mansion all drenched in blood. Of course, after he had showered and put on some clean clothes. His first time shooting someone was when he was still a teenager. Tommy grew up in a rough neighborhood, and he had seen his share of shootings. His best friend was shot, his father was shot, and once when he was 10, someone had brought a gun to school and shot everyone.

Another night, another day wasted, but it didn't matter because he had never lived up to anyone's expectation. No one would miss him. Maybe Rosenberg, but that was only because he was his number one client. He had no real family, no uncle or aunt or cousin. No blood relative which he knew of. He was alone, and no one cared.

- - - - -

It was 7 pm, and after riding around town, he decided to watch a movie at the recently completed Cineplex at the mall. The movie of his choice: the remake of the 80s' movie, 'Knife After Dark'. He bought a big tub of pop corn and a can each of Coke, Fanta, and Ice Coffee. He could never choose between the three, so he ends up buying everything. As he entered the theatre and took his seat, there were ads playing on screen.

"We hope you enjoy your experience here at the New Century Cineplex! Please don't leave your garbage behind or we'll chase you down and make you clean it. The snack bar is still open. Buy some more snacks!" Another ad played on screen, the lights dimmed slightly, and suddenly a girl rushingly sat next to him and breathlessly said, "Can you please pretend to know me? Please, I'm running from someone."

Before Tommy had a chance to say anything a man came up to them and started yelling.

"Jayne, what the fuck?! Where do you get off avoiding me like this, running around like some cheap slut with some old geezer!" He talked so loud, it was borderline screaming. Some of the people in the theatre were shushing at him. He ignored them, yelling on and on, grabbing the girl by the arm and pulling her off her feet.

"Dammit, Rodney, let me go! You dumped me, remember? You were the one sticking your dick into every stray ass that comes around, and you think I'M the slut?!" She resisted of course, obviously this Rodney fellow was a creep. And he called Tommy an old geezer.

"Hey, get lost, pal. The lady doesn't want to hang out with you so why don't you just fuck off." Tommy was more pissed that the creep had called him an 'old geezer' than anything else. He was only 45 years old. He couldn't be THAT old, can he? _(OK, I'm just guessing his age. I mean, he looked old in GTA Vice City and that was like what, in the 80's?)_

"Hey man, who the fuck do you think you are?" Rodney was really angry; the veins on his forehead were popping out, his eyes feral. Tommy didn't really know what to say in return, so what came out of his mouth next was completely impulsive.

"Hey new boyfriend. You lay another hand on her I'll chop your dick off, you hear?" Tommy half yelled, and the mean one slowly backed off. He smirked.

"I'll be back for you, bitch." He left. Once Rodney was out of sight, Tommy started to realize that everyone else in the theater were hissing and yelling at them to shut up – the movie had already begun, the lights were dimming. The girl next to him, Jayne, had her head down low, her hand over her face.

"Thanks. I'm sorry to bother you…"

"Look. It was a one time only thing. Just don't bother me again." Tommy tried to ignore her, but she moved in front, blocking his view of the screen – and in the dark he saw that she had dark brown eyes, brown hair, a pointy nose - and bruises on her face.

"Thanks anyway. My name's Jayne…"

"Yeah, whatever. Just… get lost. I'm trying to watch a movie." Tommy didn't really know why he said those things just now – why had he been so protective of her? Maybe because he was a gentleman. Or maybe he hates it when he sees a lady being mistreated. People were shushing at them once again. Suddenly, the girl hugged him and then just as suddenly as she had arrived, she left. He spared it no thought and continued watching the movie.

- - - - -

The movie ended, and he got up and left his trash behind. Half of the pop corn had been wasted; thrown at people for his amusement. He checked his pockets for his keys and panicked – his wallet had gone missing. He went back into the theatre to look for it but it wasn't there.

"Shit. She took it!" He cursed, and went home, dreading the thought of disabling all his legitimate credit cards – and this meant spending time on the phone waiting for those rude operators to answer his calls.

END chapter 2

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And you thought it was gonna be anther typical damsel in distress… bwahahahahaha!!

Reviews are much appreciated!

Thanks again to MorbidXAngel. The name thing was one major writer's block and you saved me!


	3. Jayne

People Like Us – by **Maatlockk**

Chapter 3

I hope the last chapter didn't suck. It's difficult trying to write when there's so much on my mind. Also I don't know what people will say about my stories. So I'm actually a nervous wreck. I got dumped and now he wants me back. It's annoying when they dump you over and over again. Stupid.

And sorry for the very VERY late update! I've been distracted lately… :'(

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Half the afternoon was wasted harassing Rosenberg in order to get him to help him with the cancellations of his credit cards – Tommy Vercetti didn't feel like doing it himself. He had other people to do it for him. And he'll make them do it, one way or the other. Still pissed that he had been duped, he spent the day moping around the house; he was grumpy, alright. He snapped at anyone and everyone who'd annoy him – even trivial matters such as the way their cologne smelled and how loud their shoes clicked against the marble floor of the mansion. Ken Rosenberg had arrived just in time and had taken Tommy to the club to chill out.

"Chill out, will ya? I took care of everything! Have another drink!" Rosenberg poured Tommy some liqueur from their mini bar (the one Tommy bitched about years ago) which he ignored…

He was starting to forget the fact that he had been mugged the day before, and was actually trying to enjoy himself. Rosenberg was starting to relax as well, knowing that his ass was safe for the night. You never know what Tommy might do when he's pissed.

All was fine and peaceful until they heard a great deal of commotion from underneath.

"Dammit Jayne, I own you!" screamed a familiar voice. Tommy got up from his seat and leaned over the balcony to look down to see what was happening – he hated it when some prick tried to mess around in his club. His club, his rules. And if some prick tried to start pissing around on his territory, he's get what's coming to him. Tommy ran down the stairs, determined to assert his authority over the situation, when he saw the same guy from yesterday. Rodney was his name, he recalled.

"You're making a scene here pal." Tommy spoke loudly.

"Hey man, mind your own Goddamned business." Rodney was holding a girl by the wrist. She was blonde, but her face was familiar. Obviously she was struggling to get away from the creep. Rodney ignored Tommy and continued to harass the lady.

Tommy wasn't in the mood for confrontations, so he grabbed the guy by the collar and roughly dragged him away from the girl, which earned Tommy a good whack on the jaws. Two big fellas who were obviously the club bouncers came up to them and restrained the hooligan.

"You ok, Mr. Vercetti?" asked one of them. Rodney didn't want to stay still, struggling and cursing at them.

"Yeah I'm alright. Get this prick out of here. And if he ever shows up again, you make sure his insides are all over the car park." Tommy rubbed his jaw, which was sore and throbbing. He checked his teeth, running his tongue over them to make sure that they were still intact. Then he saw the girl Rodney was harassing, and he immediately recognized her.

"Jayne, right? From yesterday. I didn't recognize you as a blonde." He saw that she had covered her bruises with make-up. But there was one fresh cut on her lower lip. She hesitated and leaned against the bar, afraid. 'He must be really mad about yesterday', she thought.

"Yeah." Jayne meekly answered him.

-

Upstairs, Tommy offered to clean the cut on her face using the supplies in the first aid kit. Ken was having a field trip with this, seeing Tommy being nice to someone else like this was new. He would rub it in but thinking twice, he decided not to. If it's one thing he's learned over the years as an attorney working with the drug lord of Vice City, it was never to piss off Mr. Tommy Vercetti.

"I'm sorry bout yesterday. Here." Jayne took out his wallet from her purse. Tommy looked at her, the wallet, and then back to her again.

"Yeah. Thanks." Tommy took it slowly, interested in seeing her reaction – she was afraid of him, that much he knew, judging from how she refused to make eye contact. She sat there for a while, eyes darting around the room, as if looking for an exit.

"I didn't really recognize you as a blonde." Tommy said as he opened his wallet to check whether if anything was missing. The second she heard this, she blushed – her already flushed face became as red as a tomato. She rubbed her arm and looked away from him and fussed with her hair which was obviously a wig, obviously not wanting to be there. Rosenberg was, as usual, high and was zoning out. Probably hallucinating about winning a case in court or something – he hardly ever does win, but if he does he'd brag about it and get wasted.

"I didn't use any of your credit cards. I just uh… borrowed some cash. About $300 or so." Jayne said as the music from below gradually became louder. Tommy made a mental note about not keeping too much cash in his wallet next time. Not that $300 was anything to him, considering how much money he made selling cocaine, but coming from a poor home, he had leaned to value every dollar he had. But he didn't want to scare the poor girl just yet – he was interested in messing around with her a little bit, just to see what she'd do.

"So you pickpocket people for a living or something?" Tommy tossed his wallet onto the desk in the corner and leaned against it, arms crossed. Jayne shifted in her seat, not looking at Tommy. Obviously, he intimidated her. She didn't answer him, and they sat in silence for a while before she got up.

"I'd better get going. Thanks." She stammered, still avoiding his gaze. He found it amusing, the way she acted around him.

"Not so fast. I got punched in the face for you tonight. And I saved you from that asshole at the movies. So you owe me." Tommy narrowed his eyes at her, and she shrank back.

"Look, I really appreciate what you did but I gotta go." Jayne panicked a little, but she kept her cool. Tommy uncrossed his arms and walked to her.

"You owe me. I'm telling you nicely." Tommy was bluffing – he just wanted to know just how far he should take it with her, how much longer before she breaks down. Something inside of him, however, was attracted to her. He reminded him of innocence – something almost impossible to find in Vice city. Everyone's either pushing, hooking, or scamming – no one is clean.

When she didn't say anything, he knew that she was scared. He backed up a little and gave her some space.

"You need a job or something? Cause we need another bartender on weekends." he asked her. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow as in saying 'are you serious?'.

"What?" she must have misheard or something – no way did he just offer her a job. She nodded meekly, and like she had just signed a binding contract, Tommy smiled and said that she started next Friday.

-

After Jayne had left, Rosenberg looked at Tommy.

"Why'd you offer her a job? She stole your wallet, her boyfriend whacked you in the face, and now you're feeling sorry for her?" Rosenberg asked, getting ready to do another hit.

"No. I just thought that maybe she should stick around. She seems kinda interesting." Tommy said, taking a swing from the bottle he was holding. Usually girls would stand up to guys, kick their asses or smash a bottle on their heads. Jayne was nothing like the typical Vice girl – defenseless, abused but her boyfriend. Maybe that was what he saw different – that she was unlike all the other girls he had been with.

Tommy drank his beer, and Rosenberg got high. Another typical night for them – but this time, Tommy was thinking about a certain girl, a certain innocent beauty. A diamond in the rough, perhaps? He anticipated their next encounter, and couldn't wait to get her to open up more to him. Perhaps there was more to her than just her shy self. He smiled to himself and waited.

END CHAPTER 3

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A/N: Oh man that sucked. But I'm kinda busy right now. I'll try and write the next chapter… I promise to finish the fic, but who knows when – this year, the next 5 years or something. But I'll finish it, because I'm don't like to cliffhanger my story forever!

Please do review. PLEASE!


	4. Jayne at the bar

**People Like Us** – by Maatlockk

Chapter 4

A/N: I really hope you liked the first few chapters of my fic. I know it's kinda unprofessional or whatever to let personal lives interfere with work but hey, shit happens.

- - - - -

It has been no more than two days since Jayne started her new job, and already she felt like quitting. She didn't quit, however, because she thought of Mr. Vercetti – she owed him big time and she intended on repaying his kindness (yeesh, that sounds funny…). As a barmaid at the Malibu, she was required to wear the sexiest outfit – a black crop top which barely covered her round boobs, a mini skirt which was always creeping up her legs, and 4 inch heels. It was the standard uniform, and it made her look like a sex symbol. It wasn't comfortable, though. She always fidgeted in her outfit, almost tripping over the other barmaid and in the process, sloshing the drinks all over the counter. Trixie, the regular barmaid complained to Tommy all the time about the 'klutzy bitch', but Tommy ignored her.

For these two days, Tommy watched Jayne from afar. He hung out downstairs, at the table closest to the bar and watched her, how she struggled to keep up with the big orders, how she struggled to remember the ingredients for certain mixes, how she messes the counter trying to pour the drinks from the shaker – and he found self being amused, and not mad. If it were any other girl, he would have tossed them out of the club on their asses, but with Jayne, he didn't mind. Any other girl would be lazy bitches, trying to make n easy buck without having to stick their asses out. Jayne was clumsy – not lazy. She looked genuinely lost, unsure of what to do. Whenever she panicked, her face flushed red – whenever she mixed up orders, sent wrong drinks to wrong tables, she would blush and try to fix it.

At times she looked miserable, but she was determined to fix her mistakes. She'd make new ones, often times spilling things left and right, and this pissed Trixie off. Tommy drank his beer as he watched – amused in a way. He was curious to see if such a naïve girl could survive in this kind of environment. The liqueur was expensive, he knew that, but he didn't mind the fact that they were being spilled all over the place, simply because it was entertaining.

Trixie fumed as Jayne spilled some cocktail mix onto her shoes – she saw Tommy and marched over to him, ready to give him a piece of her mind about the new barmaid.

"Mr. Vercetti, that new girl you hired is making a mess! She spilled all this shit all over my new shoes!" Trixie yelled over the loud music, pointing at her shoes. Tommy finished his drink and got up, putting his arm on her shoulder.

"I know she's kinda klutzy but I need you to teach her. Ya' know, show her the ropes." Tommy flashed a grin, and Trixie rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, ok boss. It's your money. She spilled half a bottle of Russian vodka all over the floor just now, but I guess you don't mind that either." Trixie said, as she walked towards the bar with Tommy behind her. The party was at its peak, everybody was on the dance floor, rocking to the tunes that the band was playing.

"Um…well, we can buy more." Tommy said, sounding almost calm. But when he saw Jayne about to grab the bottle of Chivas Regal Royal Salute, both Trixie and Tommy screamed.

"NO!" The two yelled, reaching out. Jayne froze and looked as pale as a ghost. A few people were looking at them, wondering what was wrong, and some of them looked amused. Jayne was blushing hard now, embarrassed to death, she wished that she could just crawl into a hole somewhere and die.

"That's for display only!" Trixie yelled. Jayne was flushed, and she looked at the floor, not wanting to look up at them. Tommy leaned against the bar, relieved.

"Ok, babe, you need to just stick to taking orders and cleaning up. Ok?" said Tommy. Jayne nodded like an idiot. Tommy smiled at her his warmest smile, and this made her feel at ease, even it was just for a while. He didn't want her quitting on him. He really wanted her to stick around. Even if she spills everything everywhere.

"Do you know how much that bottle is worth? $10,000! And you can't just buy 'em off the shelves anymore!" Trixie yelled. Jayne was panicking now, but she remained quiet. With all the commotion Trixie made, a few stares were bound to linger, and this made Jayne even more nervous. Tommy saw that Jayne was looking a little ruffled. Trixie gave Jayne a pat on the back and went back to work, filling up orders and mixing drinks.

"That's ok Jayne, I'm not mad. Just be careful, ok? I know you're new. So just…try and not spill anything else anymore." Tommy sat on one of the empty stools. Jayne slumped her shoulders and walked to him. She frowned, and she blushed, and it was the prettiest thing Tommy had ever seen. Her make-up was smudged, her hair was in disarray, but she was a beautiful and innocent girl. Tommy smiled, assuring her that he wasn't angry. Her eyes were hypnotic, and he noticed that the bruises were now almost gone, save for the horrid yellow spots which was hidden under the thick foundation of her make-up.

"I'm sorry, boss. I'm a real klutz, I know. Just… gimme a few more days and I'll get a hang of things. I promise." She gave him a weak smile. Tommy gave a soft chuckle and nodded.

"Ok. Now give me a beer. You can manage that, right?" Tommy said playfully. Jayne laughed, and she fetched him a bottle of beer. She opened the cap, and slid it across the bar, where it almost tipped over, but Tommy managed to catch it.

"Thanks. And don't worry. You'll get the hang of things soon enough." Tommy said as he took a swig.

-

"Hey, Trix. You ever seen Mr. Vercetti this nice to anyone?" asked Lola, the waitress, as she handed Trixie a list of orders and an empty round tray.

"Nope. Not in my life." Trixie said, as she got out some new bottles of liquor from under the counter. Lola tapped her long pink fingernails on the bar as she eyed Jayne, who was talking to Tommy, and Tommy was actually smiling! He didn't look like he was saying anything sarcastic, he looked sincere. Lola and Trixie stopped what they were doing for a moment to look at them, and saw what looked like Tommy Vercetti flirting with the new barmaid. Beer in one hand, the other hand holding Jayne's playfully.

"He looks so… different when he's so… nice!" said Lola, as she squinted to get better look at them – the flashing lights from the dance floor provided some illumination, but other than that, it was dim. They heard them laugh over the loud music.

"Oh my God, Trix, he's laughing with her. Not AT her, but he's laughing WITH her. What the hell happened?" Lola practically exclaimed, one brow raised as she pondered, trying to take in the extra information. Trixie stole a glance at them as she mixed some drinks, preparing the tray and after she filled the orders and loaded it onto the tray, she practically shoved the tray at Lola.

"Not so loud!" Trixie hissed. Lola rolled her eyes and took the tray in one hand, held shoulder high and went off into the darkness of club Malibu. Trixie looked at them once more, before another waitress came with another large order.

-

"You are such a funny guy!" Jayne said. They had moved upstairs because Tommy couldn't stand having people bother Jayne with orders. Jayne was reluctant at first, but eventually she went upstairs with him. For a while, she said, and that was fine with Tommy.

"Nah, I'm just your regular drug lord." Tommy said. Jayne smiled – she knew who he was, he had told her when she started the job. Why he told her, she didn't know, and neither did he. All he knew that she was different. How different? She was like the only white pearl amongst the lot.

"So… Rodney's not gonna come looking for me again, is he?" Jayne asked. Tommy looked at her and stared for a while. Jayne fidgeted in the leather seat, making the leather squeak.

"He might. But if he causes you any trouble you let me know and I'll take care of him for you. Ok?" Tommy smiled again at her, and she smiled back. She had washed her face, and the makeup was now gone. She looked better without makeup, he thought. Her skin was smooth and bright, and to him it was beautiful. She didn't need to cover it up with any makeup, she was already a beauty. With makeup, however, she didn't look half bad. With makeup, she looks more like a teenager who had just experimented with makeup instead of like the common look – and in Vice City, the common look was thick eye shadow, thick blush, red lipstick, most often sported by hookers who usually patrolled the side streets at night.

"Ok. Say, boss. Tell me more about yourself." Jayne got more comfortable in her seat, not caring if the skirt was riding up her butt, or if the crop top was threatening to spill out her cleavage. Tommy didn't know what it was at first, but he suddenly felt sexually attracted to her. His blood stirred, his crotch tingled a little. She was beautiful, and she was scantily clad. If she was any other woman, he would have taken her there and then. But with Jayne, he felt like he couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt confused, but he ignored the feeling. Instead, he told her his story. His escapades in Liberty City, his life in Vice City. And even though revisiting old memories brought him through a rollercoaster ride of past emotions, he found himself still feeling hot with need for her. And she looked innocent sitting there, unaware of the feelings he felt.

END CHAPTER 4

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A/N: Oh my God. Please R & R. It took me the whole day to figure out how to organize this chapter.


	5. Aching hearts

**People Like Us** – by Maatlockk

Chapter 5

A/N: Ok, wrote this in one night, hope you like it. I've been busy, so sorry for the late update. :P

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_Trixie's lone ride home._

It was a cold, and it was late; time was 4.30am. The Malibu had closed; people went home, drunks shoved into cabs, empty bottles collected, the floors swept and polished. Trixie watched as Jayne and Tommy walked to his car, and couldn't help but feel envious of Jayne. She had been working at the Malibu for a few years now, and never has she experienced the same friendliness that Tommy is showing Jayne. She walked past the parking lot and headed towards the bus stop, hoping that the late bus would come soon. The cold air nipped at her skin, and the thick faux fur jacket did nothing to keep her warm.

She heard them laugh. She turned, and caught sight of them getting into Tommy's Comet. She quickened her pace and headed towards the bus stop. She had liked Tommy, and seeing him with that klutz irritated her in ways she could not explain. As she waited at the bus stop, she saw in the distance Tommy's car pulling away from the lot; no doubt that he was dropping her off at her apartment. She waited at the bus stop for half an hour, and by the time the bus arrived, the sun was up, and dawn was on the horizon. She got on, and throughout the whole ride, all the thought of was how she wished that Tommy showed the same amount of attention that he had lavished upon that other girl.

When she got off the bus, the day had gotten brighter, and there was hardly anyone on the streets Downtown. The building she lived in could barely be classed as an apartment; the units were small and cramped, the hallways were always dirty, the lobby was a mess, the security guards who watched the front doors were either asleep or absent, and the elevator didn't stop at the 5th floor, due to technical faults, and that was where Trixie's apartment happened to be. She took the elevator to the 6th floor and walked down the stairs to her floor, and as she was about to unlock her door, she heard a gruff voice behind her.

"Rent's due today." It was Mr. Trapani, the landlord. He was a bald and overweight man who lived with his wife in the penthouse suit up on the 9th floor, and he would always hound the tenants for the rent. If they paid him a little too late, they would most definitely be on his shit list. Trixie made sure she had cash on her when rent payments were close, because she couldn't bear dealing with him constantly bugging her for the rent.

"Here it is, Mr. Trapani, 250 for the month," Trixie said as she handed the man his money. He counted it, and when he was satisfied, he barely looked her way. She sighed, and unlocked her door, and she was greeted by the familiar sight of her tattered sofas, and the bare carpets, and the stained walls. It was a small place, and the rent was damn cheap considering that it was in the middle of the city.

She locked her doors, and showered to get rid of the smell of smoke from her hair and skin; after she as done, she wore one of her tattered shirts and crawled into bed to sleep for 5 hours before having to wake up at 11 to go to her second job as a supermarket checkout girl; she had to take 2 jobs in order to save up for her to go to college. After running away from home in San Andreas, she came to Vice City where she thought that she could get a modeling gig, but it was actually a job as an escort girl for a sleazy escort company.

As she lay in bed, she thought of how she wished that Tommy would take more notice of her. She'd been the top bartender at Malibu ever since she started, and she was attractive. She did all she could to get into Tommy's good graces, and yet he fell for the clumsy cute one. She tossed and turned, and fell asleep thinking of what she could do to make him notice her more.

_Washington Beach, outside Jayne's apartment._

The time was 5am, and they were in front of her apartment. Tommy had been nice enough to drop her off, even though it was out of the way from Starfish Island. Jayne's apartment was in Washington Beach, and it was o the 2nd floor of a shop lot. It was small and cozy, and the area was one of the safest in Vice City.

"Thanks for the ride, Boss," said Jayne, as Tommy's car stopped by the curb.

"No problem, Jayne." They got out and stood by the curb, not saying a word.

"So, this is where you live?" asked Tommy. Jayne giggled, and nodded girlishly.

"Yeah, it's just up there. It's a small place but it's nice." Tommy looked around, looked for tell tale signs of any potential danger, and seeing none, he felt both satisfied and relieved. They walked up the stairs to her apartment.

"So, are you busy tomorrow?" he asked. Although it was dark, he could see that she was blushing.

"Um, no, not really. Why'd you ask?" she said, shuffling her feet; seeing her act like that amused him.

"Oh, well, maybe we could go out and take a drive around town. I know this awesome restaurant that has delicious Chinese food. Deep fried ice cream, prawn dumplings, and a whole lot of yummy food. Join me for dinner tomorrow before work?" he asked. Jayne laughed and giggled. They arrived at her door, and she was fiddling with her keys.

"Sure, that sounds good," she said. She had a big grin on her face, and she obviously liked him.

"So it's settled then. I'll pick you up at 6? That way we can take a ride to the beach before we have to go to the club."

"Sure, boss. I'll wait for you here then. Goodnight, Mr. Vercetti," she said, as she unlocked her door.

"Call me Tommy," he said. She smiled, as she stepped in her apartment. As she was about to send Tommy off on his way, she heard the table in her living room fall over, and the lamp broke. It was Rodney, and he was drunk. He had a half empty bottle of vodka in his hands, and he had obviously been waiting for her to come home.

"You little whore," he slurred, as he went to her. But before he could lay his hands on her, Tommy hit him in the face, and sent Rodney flying across the room, and he crashed loudly against the wall.

Jayne was horrified; she thought she had gotten her spare key off of Rodney, but the bastard managed to break in. She didn't feel safe anymore, and she was shivering. Tommy escorted her out of her apartment after alerting the police; the got out of there before the law arrived and drove straight to Tommy's place. Jayne was upset, and he could tell.

"I have a spare room at my place. You can stay there if you want. Or I can get you a hotel room. I know the manager at the Ocean View hotel and I can get you a room if you want." Tommy said as he drove, looking at her every now and then. She was silent.

They were at his mansion now, and the sun had risen. Jayne sat still, even as Tommy opened her door. He took her hand and coaxed her out, and managed to get her to the doors. As he opened the doors, and led her in, he could feel her sob. He held her in his arms, and felt her shake; she cried for a while, and when she was calm again, he showed her to the guest room.

"You gonna be ok, Jayne?" he asked as he turned the lights on. She nodded. As he was about to leave, he felt her grab his arm.

"I'd like you to stay. I mean… I'd like some company if you don't mind. I'm scared." Jayne said, as she held onto him. He looked at her and felt a sense of longing. He looked at her for a while, and before he knew it, he held her in his arms and kissed her fiercely. She responded with such passion, he was taken by surprise when she ripped his shirt off and pulled him to the bed.

END CHAPTER 5

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A/N: Please R & R. I've been reading Tess Gerritsen's old novels and it's rubbing off of me.


	6. Overdose

**People Like Us** – by Maatlockk

Chapter 6

A/N: I played GTA Vice City and finished it (for the umpteenth time…) just to get a feel of the city again. It might help with the fic writing. And I know the last chapter was just so abrupt. I tell you, reading romance novels (not that I usually do, it just so happens that my favorite author did romance before she wrote thrillers) just rubs off on you and it makes everyone you write about all sexed up.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. And I'd like to give credit to Mitz for jumpstarting my passion to write this fic again and giving some ideas on how I could proceed with Tommy's screwed up love life. :D

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Before it got any further, he had to stop it. He grabbed her by the arms and pulled away from her kisses and looked at her; what he saw made him feel even more protective of her, and it pained him to have to stop it all. He wanted her so badly, but he could not bring himself to touch her that way. Not Jayne.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"We shouldn't. I mean, it's a little too soon." He didn't know what else to say; if he told her the truth, she might feel hurt. He wanted to be with her, but he wasn't prepared to give up his way of life; the crimes he committed, the counterfeiting operation, the drugs… he was Tommy Vercetti. He had fought hard to get to where he was. Being with Jayne would only cause complications. She deserved someone who could love her, and protect her from this life he was living. All he would do was cause her pain and endanger her life; if his enemies knew of this, they would surely use it against him. And losing Jayne or his hard earned work was something he wasn't willing to risk.

She looked at him with such longing that he felt a pain in his chest as he kissed her goodnight and left the room. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had something to lose.

_Party at the Club Malibu- Friday night bash_

Trixie was in no mood to talk; even Lola noticed, and after failed attempts at coaxing a word out of Trixie's mouth, Lola gave up and decided to just not ask anymore, or at least until she was in a better mood. Trixie maintained a somber face as she filled up the orders. It was a weekend, and the party was certainly wild. The bouncers were working hard, making sure that not too many people got in; too many people could prove disastrous in case a fire broke out. Also, if a fight broke out (and fights are not that rare in the Club Malibu,) the bouncers need to be able to handle the crowd.

Jayne was working the bar with Trixie tonight, and she was getting better at her work. She didn't spill the drinks as much as she did a few nights ago, and she even delivered some orders to the tables. Trixie hadn't spoken to her since their shifts began, and Jayne was aware of the hostility that emanated from Trixie.

"Um… so, are you ok, Trix?" asked Jayne.

"Yep. Right as rain." Trixie answered in short, hoping that Jayne would go away. But Jayne persisted. And it was getting on her nerves. She was about to snap at Jayne when she say Tommy walk in.

"Hey there Jayne, how are things tonight? Any pricks come around giving you trouble?" Tommy said as he took a seat at the bar. They continued their conversation just out of earshot from Trixie, but Trixie saw their body language and knew that something had happened between those two.

They were whispering, and Jayne was blushing and shying away slightly; Tommy took Jayne's hand and held it for a while. Trixie was getting really pissed off as she watched these two flirt; she was too busy watching them that she accidentally knocked down an empty tequila bottle. The sharp sound of glass breaking was clearly audible despite the thumping rock tunes that were blearing out of the overhead speakers. Jayne and Tommy looked in her direction to see what was wrong.

They were still holding hands when the looked at her; she couldn't stand it anymore. She stormed away, but not before grabbing a few small packets of cocaine from the safe drawer at the end of the bar. She headed towards the bathroom, but before she got there, she saw the long line, and decided to go upstairs to use the private bar instead. That lawyer Rosenberg was probably going to be there, but he was most probably going to be drunk or high or both.

Rosenberg was asleep on the couch, empty beer bottles and court documents strewn across the table in front of him. Trixie sat next to him, knowing that he was sleeping off the drugs and alcohol. He didn't even flinch when the tunes got louder.

Trixie stared at the wall for a while. She sighed as she opened the packets; she borrowed Rosenberg's mirror and razor. After doing some Blow, she laid back, feet up on the coffee table, and studied the cracks on the ceiling. All she wanted was him. She felt a pain in her chest, and the ceiling looked as if it were coming down on her. Everything felt so acute. She heard the song being played, and every word seemed so clear.

'_I'm sorry you're not here, I've been sane too long my vision's so unclear'_ sang the lead singer.

Hearing that line, she cracked up laughing.

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"Where the hell does she think she's going?" said Tommy as they saw Trixie storm off upstairs. He got up to go after her, but Lola intervened.

"I need to have a word with you, boss. In private. Jayne, baby, can you take these to table 3?" Lola smilingly said, as she handed Jayne a tray. Jayne smiled meekly and left.

"Boss, you know Trixie's been working here for a few years now. Best barmaid we've had. And you know she's had a crush on you for a while now." Lola said as she fished out some pretzels from behind the bar.

"Trixie? She's a great gal, yeah. I just never really…you know. I never really got to know her. Why are you bringing this up anyway? Does it have anything to do with ho she's been acting tonight? I mean I assume it's just that time of the month but unless you know something interesting I'd like to know." He sat there looking at Lola, and took a swig out of his bottle.

Lola shook her head and sighed. He was too oblivious to what was happening.

"She's jealous, boss. She's jealous cause you've got your eyes on someone else. Speaking of which, I better go fill up some orders before people start sobering up." Lola couldn't help but smile as she saw the expression on Tommy's face.

He got up and went upstairs.

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Jayne went back to the bar with another order, and saw that there was no one but Lola. She looked around for Tommy, a saw that he wasn't around.

"Hey, where'd Mr. Vercetti go?" she said. Lola smiled at her, and pointed towards the stairs behind the bar. Jayne walked up to find him, and she saw him by the couch with Rosenberg checking on Trixie. They looked panicked.

"Tommy? What's going on?" she asked, walking over. Despite the dim lights, she saw that Trixie looked pale – her lips seemed blue, and she was delirious. She kept saying something about how the ceiling was about to fall on her.

"I woke up and she was sitting there, and when I checked on her, she was all cuckoo and shit. I swear, Tommy, I didn't know anything." Rosenberg was blubbering again, and Tommy became agitated. He was frantic enough as it was, and he didn't need Ken panicking. Empty plastic packets of cocaine littered the table, and the mirror was shattered in pieces on the floor.

"Fuck, she's burning. We need to cool her down now. And quit panicking you idiot, it's not helping!" Tommy said as he frantically pulled Rosenberg off the couch.

"Oh my God. What the hell happened? What happened to her?" Jayne said. Only when she said this did they notice her standing there. They pulled poor Trixie up off the couch and lead her to the restroom and sat her down on the floor.

"Jayne, I need you to get the pitcher from the mini bar. Hurry!" he said, Rosenberg was still panicking. It felt really hot in there right now, and the loud thumping added to the disorientation.

"Ken, get some ice, dammit!" but Rosenberg just stood there. He was too scared. Tommy grabbed him by the collar and shook him.

"Look, if you keep this up I'll toss you over the bar and into the dance floor. You either help or you stay out of my way!" Tommy yelled. Rosenberg nodded, and he ran out to fetch some ice.

Tommy filled up the sink with water and ice, and he poured a pitcher full of it over her head, and water spilled everywhere. Onto the marble floor, onto his suit, and onto his shoes. He wasn't sure why he reacted the way he did, but he was determined to save her.

"Trixie? Trix, can you hear me?" he said, holding her head in his hands. Her skin felt so warm, and the water in her hair had warmed. He continued to cool her down, and asked Ken to get the car ready. They had no choice; they took her to the hospital.

As Jayne watched them drive off, Lola called her to the bar; "Jayne, honey, we've got orders to fill up!"

END CHAPTER 6

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A/N: **Please R & R**. I've been keeping check of the stats and I know people have been reading my fic and the latest chapter. I would appreciate some feedback even if it's to point out a simple spelling mistake. Reader's reviews are the best that a writer can hope for.

And I know my writing is sloppy. :P it's what happens when you take too many breaks between writing paragraphs.

Depending on when my next assignment is, and how much I have to write and when it's due, it will be a little while more before I update. But stay tuned for more!


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